


Dead End

by Midgard_writer



Series: Ah, Monkees [2]
Category: The Monkees (TV)
Genre: Break Up, Fighting, LSD
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-31
Updated: 2020-12-31
Packaged: 2021-03-11 00:33:54
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,557
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28456143
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Midgard_writer/pseuds/Midgard_writer
Summary: The Sixties are ending and so are The Monkees.
Series: Ah, Monkees [2]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1933867
Kudos: 1





	Dead End

**Author's Note:**

> Hey guys! The new year is coming which means, hopefully, more fanfics. 
> 
> TW: Drug Use. 
> 
> Enjoy!

The Sixties would soon be coming to a close in a matter of months. The years were full of wonder and experience. In hindsight, it was for the best, however, as many grew up and moved in their own direction. Carol found that she had changed in the last decade. She started off as someone who was opening herself up to the world, finishing both high school and college in the matter of four years. She became independent. She became the adult she’d always wanted to be. She felt free...but a lot had changed more than she wanted it to. 

Carol sighed and pulled away from the mirror, trying not to think about the way things were going. She walked near the stairs from the upper bedroom, ready to get to school and start her lessons. But first, she surveyed the area. The covers on the drums had been thrown off and the instruments looked like they’d been played with. She pondered for a second before leaning over the stairway. She saw the whole crew around the coffee table, writing down another song. The woman sighed and walked down the stairs. The closer she got, the more she could smell weed. The scent was strong and Carol scrunched up her nose at the smell. Only Peter noticed she was there, but he seemed to be coming off of a high. 

“What are you guys doing?” she finally asked as she leaned slightly over the couch.

“Huh!” Micky’s head shot up, curls bouncing as he tried to figure out where the noise came from, then came a stoned smile on his face,” Hey Carol.”

She smiled, though she’d felt exhausted. Since November of last year, The Monkees started to fade away. Their band never hit the big time--together, at least. The woman felt bad for her close friends. They never got to live the dream they had together. They were stuck in the mindset that they could salvage what was left when Carol (and one of their own) knew this would be over soon. 

How wouldn’t it be? Mike had a family now. His wife and sons were wonderful people, but the tallest Monkee now had a responsibility. Besides that, he wanted to focus on country music more than anything and the others hated that. Davy would rather spend his time with women and on television. He focused on a different spotlight over the last year and that was fine. Micky and Peter never expressed any ideals of up and leaving, but it was there. Even if no one could really see it.

“New song?” she asked, trying to keep up the conversation like they used to.

“Yeah,” Davy nodded.

Carol bit her lip and glanced at Peter. He was high out of his mind and it was obvious. He just laid on the couch, somewhat focused on the table. Mike gave a glare before returning to the paper. If anyone could be placed in a different decade, it would have to be Mike. The woman kept her eyes on the group’s most vulnerable member, however. Somehow, she knew he’d be the only one left. While everyone drifted apart, there Peter would be, waiting for them to come back. It would be years before they would even consider getting back together and, even then, who knows what would happen. Where would Peter be in those years? Mike and Micky could certainly take care of themselves. Davy would too, if he could stop himself from flirting so much. But Peter….

“Don’t you have a class or somethin?” Mike mumbled. 

“Oh!” Carol grabbed her belongings,” I’ll be back a little after four. We can make dinner and maybe get in some practice for another gig?”

She realized how stupid that sounded after she’d said it. Micky and Peter nodded, with the blond wishing her well. Davy agreed but the Texan remained quiet. Carol closed the door and quickly walked to her car. Their car. Mike, Davy and Micky were insistent on getting rid of it. But Peter was practically begging to let it stay. It was the oldest car among them all and the woman couldn’t bear to part with it. 

She got in the car and went to turn it on. But she stopped herself. For a minute, she just sat in the car. She recalled all of the moments the band had together. All of the times they’d had laughing and singing and going through adventures that no one thought was possible. Realizing it was all gone, she began to cry. Carol started up the car, glancing back to the house with a feeling of bitter sorrow stabbing her chest. She drove away as she did, knowing she’d stop just before she made it to school.

The boys went back to their song after she’d left. They hadn’t talked much that day, or that week...or in the last year. This was the first time in months that they’d actually been working on a song. After another hour of silence, Micky threw his pen down.

“I got nothing,” he said.

“What a surprise,” Mike muttered.

“Well,” the drummer glared at the Texan,” What do you suppose we do? Don’t say country—that’s all you ever want to do!”

‘Well excuse me for wanting to do something other than pop.”

Davy rolled his eyes and started flipping through his notebook of ideas. Peter stayed quiet. He hated the fighting and how they didn’t get along anymore. He missed how it used to be. But he simply bit his lip and sat up, giggling softly as the weed started to wear off. At this, the others glanced but didn’t say anything. 

“How about a--”

“Not another love song,” Davy was interrupted by Mike. 

“Well why not?” the Brit asked.

“Come on now,” the Texan turned to his friend,” All you do is sing love songs. Or songs about getting your heart broken. Depends on when you’re trying to wrangle in another girl every other week.”

Davy became annoyed at this. He protested keeping silent. But then he looked around. Mike was some kind of dictator who controlled the way the group thought. Micky was always trying to butt heads. And Peter...he was a pushover, mislabeled as ‘Hippie’. They were all different and they didn't seem to care. As if change didn’t have any effect on any one of them. To this, Davy had had enough.

“You know what?” Davy tossed his notebook onto the table,” I’m sick of you. And I’m sick of this!” 

“What exactly is this?” Mike pondered out loud, arms crossed. 

“All this,” Davy gestured to the room,”We used to work hard for what we had. Now look at where we are! We’re on different paths and we can’t agree on anything for this band. It’s falling apart and you know it.”

Mike wouldn’t admit it. How could he? Micky refused to do so and Peter wouldn’t stand for an argument. It had been the way of a hippie, which was the lifestyle he would soon be accustomed to. The others, however, were far more into their spat. 

“Dave-”

“Save it Micky,” he growled,” You know better than anybody else that this band is nothing. We used to worry about getting gigs and making money. But we don’t care! Especially you.”

“Oh, go fuck yourself, David,” Mike sighed.

Davy’s face became red. He wanted to scream at Mike and let it all out. But what would he say? Of course he was angry! He was enraged! Before he could even think about speaking, Mike grabbed the paper and crumbled it up. Micky looked utterly confused.

“What the hell was that for?”

Mike simply threw it in the drummer’s face. His jaw dropped slightly and stared at the Texan. All he did, in return, was smile. 

“Save it, Curly.”

Micky had had enough. He launched himself at Mike, who stood up and stumbled back. Davy grabbed the drummer and tried to pull him back. Peter just stood up, trying his best to make out what happened. Micky stopped trying to attack. He just towered over the fallen Mike, clenching his fists and doing his best to hold back his emotions. 

“Micky,” Peter stepped in, though he didn’t move from where he stood.

“You’re the reason everything fell apart!” Micky’s voice was raised and his fists were clenched, staring down at his fallen band member,” All you do is make us feel like we don’t matter. Is it because you have a family and we don’t? Is it because we don’t enjoy country music as much as you? Well...Answer me!”

Micky’s voice was cracking. He wanted more than anything to break down and cry. Instead, he stared down at the Texan. His fists were shaking with emotions, all of which were negative. Mike realized that he’d provoked a sleeping giant. Mike wanted to get up, but he feared Micky might actually hurt him. Davy nodded, as if to convince him otherwise. The Texan slowly stood up and the drummer backed up slightly. 

“You want to know the truth?” Mike’s tone was rude and brisk,” Fine. I’m working on a solo album. Because I know we’re a fucking failure of a band. I know that the Monkees are a dying breed. We’re nothing! Name one time we’ve had a record. Name one of our hits. You can’t because they don’t exist. You created this band but you can’t sing and you can’t play those stupid drums either!”

Mike whipped off his sunglasses and threw them at the drumset. The little pair knocked almost everything over. Peter flinched and Davy gave an angry look to Mike. Micky was angry but he wouldn’t fight back.

“You bastard!” he screamed,” I know what your problem is. You think you’re so mature and that you’ve basically got your whole life together. You and your family and your...solo album. You’ve become a real jackass this last year.”

“I have?” 

“Yeah!” Micky stormed over and opened the window,” You think you’re some almighty leader of the pack. You’re nothing but the dirt on our shoes. And you know what?” Micky picked up the box of songs Mike had yet to release,” So are these!” 

Micky tossed the box outside. Mike grew angry and rushed over to the window. Papers and notebooks scattered towards the ocean. There was no saving most of them. Mike stormed towards his guitar. He wouldn’t dare let that be destroyed. He noticed the box of maracas on the side. With an evil smirk, Mike began to throw them at Micky. He ducked and they smashed against the wall.

“Hey, HEY!” Davy ran over to the Texan,” Knock it off, you moron.”

“Oh, I’m sorry little guy,” Mike sneered,” did you actually want these? I thought you were too busy fuckin’ and screwin’ around on television.”

“I’m so sick of all of you calling me little!” he shouted,” And yeah, maybe I do prefer television and all the girls I could ask for. Then I don’t have to hear Micky’s stupid jokes and Mike complaning about not doing his Southern bullshit.”

“Oh, you shut up!”

Mike threw another maraca. Peter began to feel overwhelmed. He realized that this wasn’t going to end. Someone was going to get hurt. Someone was going to seriously lose it. Or someone was going to do something they’d regret. Peter ran over, feeling his chest tighten and his throat get chokey.

“What about Carol?”

“Oh yeah!” Mike threw his hands in the air,”God forbid we forget about her! We just had to let her in here! I’m sure she’d rather leave the band she fuckin’ ruined.”

“Along with you,” Davy growled.

“Guys, please!” Peter begged,” I don’t want to fight.”

“And you!” 

Davy pointed to the blond. Peter paused, eyes slightly widening at the sound of Davy. Mike and Micky didn’t say anything yet. But they were secretly agreeing with their short bandmate. 

“I’m so sick of your hippie bullshit,” he spat out,” You’re always peace this, peace that. You think you’re so groovy, but you’re not.”

“I…”

“Oh, you know it’s true,” Mike threw the box towards the drums, still seething with rage,” You know, everyone says how you’re innocent, but you’re really just clueless. You’ve caused my headaches and my fears over the last few years. You don’t contribute to the band, you don’t write songs--hell, I haven’t heard you sing in more than three songs! You...you’re one of the reasons that I have to leave, you idiot. I wouldn’t be surprised if you’re the reason we’re all through.”

Peter felt his heart shatter. His mouth opened slightly as he heard this. He never thought, in his entire life, that he was the reason. Micky didn’t say anything. Mike shook his head and grabbed his guitar. He picked up his sunglasses on the way there, putting them on and putting his guitar in the case.

“I’m done,” he said simply,” I’ve had it.”

“What are you talking about?”

“I’m taking everything out of here that’s mine. I’m going back to my house, to my family, and I’m never coming back here. Our band’s hit a dead end. I knew this was coming down to this.”  
Peter tried to stop his old friend, but the words wouldn’t come out. Mike went to put some of his belongings into his car. Micky and Davy glanced to each other. Davy walked over his box of maracas and picked them up. He sighed and glanced to the two.

“I’m leaving too,” Davy started to flip through everything, leaving a mess behind them,” They’ve offered me some television work in Florida. I’m gonna settle down, I’m gonna have a family. I don’t think I’ll be coming back.”

“No,” Peter mumbled. 

“I’ve thought about it too,” Micky stopped,”Because I have a girlfriend now. We’re gonna get married soon,and I thought about moving out and into her house...but I can’t do that. Not yet.”

He looked over to Peter when he said so. The blond could feel himself start to breathe heavily. Davy and Mike were making a mess of the house, taking what belonged to them out to their cars. There was tension and anger brewing in that house. Micky mumbled about needing a break. He bid farewell to Mike and Davy before slamming the front door. Peter felt overwhelmed by the sight. 

“Goodbye,” he said,” And thanks...thanks a lot. I’m not an idiot. I was never an idiot, Mike. You were my brothers...just make sure you clean up before you leave. Wouldn’t want Carol to come back to a mess.I’ll tell her you said goodbye.,” Peter went towards the bottom room, which had been Carol’s room, then turned to the two,” Oh, and I’ve written songs before. You guys just think I’m too stupid to write good ones.”

Not once in his life did Peter slam the door. Now was no exception. Even if he was angry, he had to keep the peace. It was all he had. Even as he sat in that bedroom, he realized that he couldn’t cry. Why? He was so upset. He lost just about everything. His band broke up, his friends were all leaving and his house would be gone. His home. He’d have to leave his state too. He’d have to pack up and go away. He’d have his bass, but what else? Once Carol found out what happened, she’d pack up and go away for good. 

“Goddammit!” he exclaimed. 

He put his hands on the side of his head. Then, he slowly put them to his side. He reached into his pocket and pulled out a tab. The little drug would take the pain away. It would help…

Carol parked her car in the driveway. She didn’t notice the lack of other cars as she went to the front door. She jiggled her key and walked in with her eyes to the ground.

“Sorry I’m a little late,” she said,” Jeremy had a question about-“

Carol looked at the destruction before her. She looked around, pure shock on her face. The drums were tipped over. Maraca bits were smashed on the floor. Papers and furniture were all over the place. There was a sense of tension and horror in the room. She shouted for her friends, begging them to come out. She couldn’t hear anybody as she rushed upstairs.

“Peter?” she called, opening the bedroom door.

Most of the stuff had been taken. Drawers were open, belongings were scattered on the floor. Only Peter’s side had been untouched, with Micky’s side second best.

“Micky?” she ran out of the room, “Mike? Dav-”

The window was wide open. In a panic, she ran downstairs and towards the window. Crushed plastic and dumped papers were under her boots as she leaned over the window. There was nothing there. Her heart started to race as she feared the worst. 

“Boys!” she screamed, closing the window.

She heard a thud in her room. Carol jumped over the couch and ran straight for her room. She flung the door open and found that nothing had been touched. But Peter was leaning against her bed, holding himself and shaking violently. His eyes were bright red. He looked up and his lower lip quivered. Carol threw her stuff aside and knelt in front of him, putting her hands on his knees. 

“Peter!” she gasped softly,” What’s wrong-”

“No!” he screamed, trying to shuffle away,” Stop, please!”

She took her hands off of his knees. Carol slowly tried to approach him, but Peter was shaking his head. She realized that he was tripping. She wondered if the guys had done the same thing…

“Peter,” she whispered,” It’s okay. It’s just a bad trip.”

“No,” he was shaking,” No….No!”

Carol sat on the other side of the bed. She kept telling him, as softly as she could, that it was a bad trip and that everything was okay. She tried to joke with him and make him remember anything good. Peter was still shaking as he looked over to her. She knew his trip was beginning to end. He slowly inched to her then, his head on her shoulder, he began to sob. Carol wrapped an arm around his shoulder.

“They...they’re done.”

“Hm?” she asked.

“Mike, Micky, Davy. They’re done with the band.”

Carol looked down at Peter. She felt sick to her stomach hearing this.

“What?”

“They got into a big fight after you left,” he sobbed,” Mike wanted to do country and Micky wanted pop and Davy had other ideas...They all got mad and started breaking stuff. They hate each other and they hate me...Mike took his stuff. Davy took his stuff. Micky’s gonna move too.”

Carol knew this was gonna happen. She felt it inside and she was so sure that this would have happened. But everything was ruined. Everything had fallen apart in the worst way possible.

“Wait...what do you mean they hate each other?”

“Mike said we’re a failure,” Peter cried,” and that the band was done for. He and Micky started name calling and yelling at each other. Then Davy got in on it. Then...they called me an idiot.”

“Peter that’s not true—“

“That I’m the reason the band fell apart...They threw things and got so angry. They don’t think I did anything for the band. That I didn’t write the songs that got rejected and I didn’t sing the songs I sang. They….they’re leaving me! They’re leaving us! And now we’re gonna lose the house and the band and...”

Carol let him cry. She was angry and resentful of the group. They used to love each other and have fun. But everything changed. She hated it and wouldn’t stand for it. But right now, she knew he needed comfort.She moved in front of him, putting her hands on his arms. Then, without effort, she gave the biggest smile possible.

“Where’s the one place you’ve always wanted to go?” She asked.

“Huh?” He sniffed.

“If you could move to one place to live in the whole world, right now, where would you go?”

Peter was so confused by her words. He’d watched as she wiped his tears away. He sniffed again as he quickly pondered.

“I...I’ve always wanted to move to Connecticut.”

“Then it shall be,” Carol said.

She stood up and went to her closet. Peter stood up, wiping the rest of his tears and wondering what was going on. Carol was throwing clothes and cases onto the bed. She was putting up an act, he decided. 

“Carol,” he sighed,” You’re not really going through with this.”

“Yes I am,” she said, dragging her shoes from out of the closet,” Now go pack up.”

“But Carol.”

She wouldn’t listen to him. She just kept saying what she needed and what she could pack in the former Monkeemobile. Carol was tearing her room apart while Peter tried to stop her. But she wouldn’t listen until…

“Carol!” 

Carol had never heard her close friend speak so loudly. She dropped what she was holding onto her bed and faced Peter. He was desperate to keep everything together...but how could he? 

“We’re not really gonna do this...are we?”

“Why not? Peter, those guys are gonna get to do everything they want. They’re moving in with families, and being on TV and whatever else! Peter, if they’re doing what makes them happy, why don’t you do what makes you happy?”

“I...well, what about you? Why aren’t you doing what makes you happy?”

“If I wasn’t gonna be happy, I wouldn’t have suggested leaving in the first place.”

Peter paused, then pulled her into a hug. He saw that not everything was falling apart. That there was hope after all. He let go and went off to pack. Carol couldn’t help but smile as she packed what she could. The two moved everything they could into the car. They shoved and shuffled their belongings into the trunk and the backseat. Peter gingerly made sure his bass was in the backseat before shutting the door. Meanwhile, Carol was inside, staring out of the now open window. Peter entered and watched her. All of their belongings were away. Their presence would soon be gone too. For now, the Tork boy sat next to her, watching the ocean from that view for the last time. 

“They’re gonna be back,” he said simply.

“Hm?” she asked, glancing over to him.

“Mike and Davy didn’t take everything. And Micky’s still here...maybe not for long, at least. I know I shouldn’t, but I want to say a final goodbye. You know me...I want to write a goodbye letter.”

“You know? Maybe we both should.”

Peter agreed, being that she didn’t get a proper goodbye. He went back to the car and grabbed the notebooks the two liked to write songs in. He grabbed something to write with as well and gave the equipment to the girl. They sat by the window, writing and remembering their better times. Of course, they were more than excited to up and leave. But, of course, they were also worried. 

After a little while, they set the pages down on the kitchen table. But what if they wouldn’t see them? Carol pondered then walked towards the window. She shut and locked it, then taped their letters to the window. They nodded to each other and walked towards the front door. They took a good, long look around before they made their way to the car. Carol got in the driver’s side, knowing they had to get a map before they could drive off. As they were stopping to get a map, Mike approached the house. He ran inside to get the rest of his belongings. He went to grab the songs left inside, then he found the notes. He froze and looked at Peter’s note.

“Guys,” it said,” I hated the way things ended. I hated that, after years of being so close, we fell apart. I wish we didn’t have to fight. I wish that it could have ended a lot better. Mike, I hope you do well with your record and I hope you keep your family safe and happy. Davy, I hope Florida’s not too hot and that you have a great time on television. And Micky? I hope you and your soon-to-be wife are happy and that you find what you want in life. I will never hate you guys, but I will hate what you did. Maybe someday we can come back together. But, for now, leading our own lives is for the best. I hope everything is better than you guys could ever hope for. Even if we fought, you guys will always be my brothers. I hope, someday, you can see that I’m not an idiot and that I’m not just some clueless kid. And that I always contributed to the band. Always. -Peter.”

Mike felt awful as he looked at that note. He then read Carol’s, but quickly gathered his stuff and walked out. He didn’t want anyone to see him cry. As the two in the red car were looking and highlighting the right route, Davy came back. The notes were the first thing that he noticed. He read Peter’s and moved on to Carol’s.

“Dear boys,” she wrote,” I found out what happened. I’m hurt that this didn’t last so much longer, but I knew it was coming. I didn’t think it would end the way it did. I do hope you guys enjoy your lives and I do hope we meet again. But I see what you did to yourselves. I see what you did to Peter and it makes me feel...sick. Peter and I are moving out and we don’t think we’ll be back. We’re gonna find our happiness. We’re gonna be free. This may not be the end, but for now, we’re gonna be out there and we’re gonna figure out what to do in our lives. -Carol.”

At this, Davy felt guilty. But he knew there wasn’t much more he could do. As Micky came home and read the letters, Peter and Carol were riding out of the town. Peter looked over to Carol, who drove casually and quietly with her eyes on the road and one hand on the wheel. They were at a stoplight, trying to figure out where to go next. Without warning, Peter took the hand that wasn’t on the steering wheel. Carol looked over to Peter, but he refused to make eye contact. He was doing his best not to cry, but he was scared. Scared for the journey and his future. Carol gave a sympathetic smile. 

“Hey,” she said softly,” You’re gonna be okay, Peter.”

“No,” he whispered, looking up to her and smiling, tears in his eyes,” We’re gonna be okay.”

The light turned green and they drove on, knowing their future was miles away. And it was lights out for California and The Monkees. But, the sun always rises. It would do so on California and it would do so on the band. It would just take some time.


End file.
